


singularity

by cumrich



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Friends to Lovers, Lowercase, M/M, Metaphorical Facials, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, srsly so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumrich/pseuds/cumrich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hanbin wonders how to tell him that for every breath hanbin takes, bobby takes two, and hanbin is steadily collapsing, breathless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	singularity

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to vee, who looked this over for me :)

_and love is not a victory march,  
it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah_

 

the universe is infinite, and in its vastness there is kim jiwon, stardust.

  


○

  


the dorm is quiet when hanbin gets back, pitched dark save for the lonely dim light from the kitchen. hanbin makes his way to it, moth to flame, but his steps are heavy, dragging, exhaustion like a second skin woven into him. sleep sags under his eyes, sits like heavy raindrops on the tips of his lashes, fighting to weigh his eyes shut. he flicks the light off before trudging to his room, careful to keep quiet. 

 

habit alone has him checking in on jinhwan first, head poking through the door before he even realises what he’s doing. jinhwan’s sleeping, as is donghyuk, and it lets hanbin’s heart breathe easy, a familiar sort of comfort settling in. 

 

by the time he makes it to his room, hanbin can only think of the softness of his pillow and the warmth of his blanket, but the sight of bobby’s empty bed has him at a standstill. bobby had left with jinhwan at least two hours before hanbin; he should have been asleep by now. or, at least, in his bed, but his bed looks just as unmade as it did that morning when they’d all left for the studio. junhwe’s soft snoring buzzes through the room, and hanbin glances from bobby’s empty bed to junhwe’s top bunk, only then catching the dark lump of blankets sitting on his own bed.

 

hanbin moves forward, the bag still hung over his shoulders dropping aimlessly down. familiarity is comfort, and hanbin knows bobby rarely feels like a fish out of water but on those rare occasions, he swims back to someplace he can call home. hanbin feels as though the ground he’s walking on has suddenly become a slippery slope. his heart beats too fast.

 

“bobby?” hanbin asks, too quiet, but bobby’s name feels like an echo’s reverberation in hanbin’s chest, progressively getting louder.

 

the lump twists and hanbin sees bobby’s head poke out of the covers. in the darkness hanbin can’t see anything, moonlight clouded by distance, but bobby shuffles aside, pressing closer to the wall. hanbin loses his snapback, tosses his hoodie in the same direction before climbing in next to bobby. his bed is warm, bobby warmer as he settles against hanbin, head pressed against hanbin’s chest. hanbin’s arms wrap around him instinctively, holding him in place, silence swallowing them.

 

hanbin doesn’t know what to say, mind ticking as it attempts to land on what has bobby feeling so needy. they had a relatively easy day, the same sort of tasks as usual, everything fitting together like clockwork. and then it hits him.

 

“is she doing okay?”

 

“yeah,” bobby mumbles, but his voice sounds hoarse, frayed around the edges. he’s been crying.

 

“and your brother?”

 

“good,” bobby answers, legs tangling up with hanbin’s. he feels solid in hanbin’s arms, warm and small. hanbin rubs his fingers over the short hair at the nape of bobby’s neck, bobby’s head tucked under his chin, and hanbin only wishes he could ease bobby’s homesick heart, could put bobby at ease the way he constantly settles hanbin.

 

hanbin doesn’t fall asleep until he can feel bobby’s steady chest pressed against his, occasional sniffle quieting down to soft sighs. _she’s so proud of you_ , he thinks, drifting off. _i am, too..._

  


○

  


sleep seems to follow hanbin around everywhere, as though attracted to hanbin’s scent, incapable of taking no for an answer. to hanbin’s detriment and irritation, it seems to float above him like a cloud, an unstoppable shower of _rest, rest, rest_ pitter-pattering against every inch of his skin. he rubs it out of his eyes, wipes it on the cotton of his sweats, and even then, it lingers. 

 

“jinhwan says junhwe won’t even talk to him,” bobby says, interrupting the daze hanbin’s let himself sink into. his body doesn’t bolt awake, exhaustion soaked through to his bone. he feels like a book left out in the rain, drenched.

 

“you guys need to leave him alone,” hanbin murmurs back, eyes glancing at the clock in his little studio. it’s one am. the song he’s been working on with bobby for the last four hours is almost ready, their first evaluation only five days away. they shouldn’t be working together, but isn’t it all the same in the end?

 

bobby slumps forward in his chair, mouth twisted into a pout, and briefly hanbin thinks about how cute he looks before the thought passes and he’s back to staring at his computer screen. hanbin sees but doesn’t, mind flashing back to junhwe’s tears and they haven’t fought this long, this far, to be told they’re not good enough, that they need to prove themselves further. it feels like one big cosmic joke, like the universe is taking it’s time to laugh.

 

“we’re gonna be okay,” bobby says, and hanbin catches the way it dangles like a question between them, uncertainty laced through bobby’s voice. he looks at hanbin, eyes empty, and hanbin wishes he could promise him yes. could offer bobby the assurance, could make all of this worth it.

 

“we need to finish the song,” he says instead, looks away from bobby’s eyes, promises himself that he would have a response eventually. something certain and solid. something hopeful.

 

bobby straightens up, chair scooting closer to hanbin’s, and this close hanbin can feel the heat radiating off of him, warm and soft as if hanbin were soaking in the flames from a fireplace. hanbin hits play on what they have so far, mumbling lyrics as he goes along. he doesn’t have them all memorized yet. bobby points out that the beat doesn’t sound quite right for the chorus and hanbin watches him play around with the sounds, pressed up into hanbin’s personal space until hanbin isn’t sure if bobby is even in his own chair anymore. bobby feels heavy, the same kind of heavy that falls on hanbin after hours spent practising, a good ache, a reminder that he’s worked hard. hanbin finds himself staring at the downward slope of bobby’s nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones under the harsh light of their small studio, the curl of his lashes and hanbin thinks, hanbin thinks — 

 

“what do you think, hanbin?”

 

“huh?” hanbin refocuses, finds bobby staring at him with a quirked brow and the smallest hint of a smirk, something amused, surprised.

 

“you zoning out?” bobby teases, grabbing hanbin’s hoodie by the drawstrings and pulling down sharply. “i didn’t know our leader could zone out.”

 

“shut up,” hanbin mutters, feels the heat burning in the apples of his cheeks, gaze shifting back to the computer screen. bobby’s laughing, moving in closer and it happens so quickly hanbin’s not sure if it’s real, if he’s real: the soft press of bobby’s lips to his cheek, there and then gone. hanbin finds bobby standing up, arms stretched up over his head as his body arches outwards, hanbin faced with the jut of his hipbones as his hoodie pulls up too high, sweatpants hung too low. he inhales.

 

bobby exhales.

 

“let’s go home. get some sleep. maybe junhwe will be feeling better in the morning,” bobby sighs, voice laced with exhaustion. it sinks into hanbin too quickly, suddenly hyperaware, body encased in heat. he stares at bobby, running a hand through his hair before he slips his snapback back on, smiling charmingly at hanbin.

 

hanbin thinks —

  


○

  


"did you know that people are made of stardust?" bobby says to him, eyes fixed on the night sky and hanbin only nods because he's always known bobby was other-worldly. someone so delicately crafted that it left hanbin feeling as though there were a gaping hole in him, all this space to show his lacking. 

 

jinhwan snuffles in between them, the hoodie bobby’s thrown over his prone form big enough to cover his body down to his thighs. hanbin runs a hand through jinhwan’s hair, the softness pleasant as he stares at bobby. he glances up at the stars when he thinks bobby might shift his gaze away, but he doesn’t, awestruck as he stares at a glowing sky. briefly, hanbin thinks it pales in comparison to bobby but he says nothing, hand never stilling in jinhwan’s hair.

 

they have a monthly evaluation coming up, and in all honesty, hanbin isn’t sure how much they’ve improved from their last evaluation. hanbin has an essay due in history, too, and while it’s his favourite subject, he spends all his time scribbling down lyrics about beautiful faces, twinkling stars that take up too much space in his heart. jinhwan would laugh if he saw them.

 

hanbin bites his lip, letting his head fall back to rest on his knee. they’re out by the han river, bobby’s favourite place to think and unwind.

 

bobby shifts back, weight falling on the palms of his hands as he extends his legs out, head craning further back. a blooming flower. “don’t you think that’s amazing?”

 

again, hanbin only nods, stares at bobby’s bare arms, heart speeding up. bobby looks at him, wind ruffling through his hair, and hanbin’s losing his mind, right? he’s losing his mind staring at kim jiwon, a bursting star and hanbin doesn’t want to be left behind, doesn’t want to be anything less than the star stuff bobby is made of. his heart squeezes tightly in his chest, fingers pulling out of jinhwan’s hair until they fist into the grass he’s sitting on. the han river rumbles along in the background, yesterday’s thunderstorm has left its banks bursting.

 

bobby stares at him, soft smile playing across his lips, hair too long, curling behind his ears. hanbin thinks it’s as long as it was when they first met, the strength of hanbin’s shyness nothing in front of bobby’s unapologetic eagerness. 

 

“one day we’re gonna shine brighter than every star in the sky,” bobby grins, laughing, and hanbin doesn’t know what to say, but the stupid smile that unravels on his face is exactly what bobby wants.

 

“you making a promise?” hanbin asks, fifteen and naively confident.

 

bobby’s still smiling, eyes flashing an intensity hanbin only hopes he mirrors. “did it sound like anything else?”

  


○

  


the universe is infinite, and in its vastness there is bobby, brighter than the sun. 

  


○

  


hanbyul runs screaming to the door, hanbin barely ready to catch her as she jumps at him, arms reaching up up up. hanbin falls back, laughing, collides with someone solid, steadying and it’s bobby, it’s always bobby, his surprise echoing through hanbin until it rattles in the throb of his heartbeat, hands at hanbin’s hips as hanbin holds onto hanbyul for dear life. 

 

“oppa!” she giggles, loud and ecstatic, and hanbin has missed this, has missed her. she’s grown so much since he’s last seen her, and there’s a pang of guilt, a pang of _loss_. bobby’s hands smooth up his back, pressing in closer until hanbin can feel the flutter of his breath against his skin.

 

“hey cutie,” bobby grins, pinching hanbyul’s cheeks. she shies away immediately, face hiding in hanbin’s neck as she peeks over his shoulder at the stranger. hanbin laughs, pulling back to reveal her, his head resting against bobby’s shoulder. there’s a strange flutter in his chest, warmth soaking through him as bobby grins at his sister, attempts to catch her attention. she’s still refusing to make eye contact, and hanbin is pulling away from bobby, out of orbit, looking for his mother.

 

bobby follows and it’s not until hanbyul’s had an hour or two in his presence that she warms up to him, laughing as she runs away with his snapback. hanbin is left behind on the floor of his living room, watching his best friend and his little sister run around the room, bobby purposefully slow as hanbyul delights in escaping him. she’s only two, a little ungraceful, trips over her own two feet and hanbin’s shout catches in his throat, bobby diving to grab her before she hits the floor. hanbyul is momentarily shocked before she’s giggling and hanbin ignores the swell in his chest, the quickening of his heartbeat. bobby’s smile is too big, eyes crinkling until they’re little crescents and like the moon, he glows and glows and glows. hanbin thinks people can find love again in the curl of bobby’s lips. his heart aches.

 

he remembers holding hanbyul for the first time. the hospital room had been empty except for him and his mother and hanbyul, quiet as night, her soft breathing barely audible. hanbin’s father was missing, as usual.

 

“do you want to hold her?” his mother had asked, hanbin’s eyes reverent and he’d never seen someone so small and fragile and delicate up close before. he’d stood by the edge of the bed, held his breath as she’d passed hanbyul to him. hanbyul had been so warm, hanbin’s lungs had burned, and he’d held her gingerly to his mother’s quiet laughter. “you won’t break her.”

 

hanbin had wanted to ask how she knew but he couldn’t take his eyes off of hanbyul’s small hands fisted together, her eyes shut, mouth just slightly parted as she’d slept in her brother’s arms for the first time.

 

bobby’s throwing hanbyul up into the air and she’s shrieking with laughter, begging _again again_ , and hanbin understands now.

  


○

  


hanbin's shuffling out of the practice room when he spots him, eyes closed with his head drooping forward awkwardly. he's curled up on himself, over-sized hoodie pulled up and over his snapback as if the practice room isn't boiling. his heart squeezes in his chest, feet guiding him to bobby's prone body without thought. 

 

crouching, hanbin gently shakes his shoulder, waits for the muffled groan, bobby's eyes flickering open. "i told you to go home."

 

"didn't wanna," bobby mumbles, drowsy eyes barely open as he looks up at hanbin with a lazy smile. hanbin's hand lingers on bobby's shoulder, gut twisting as he tells himself that tracing the fan of bobby's eyelashes wouldn't be entirely appropriate. he lets his knees meet the floor, waiting for bobby to wake up, for the hammering in his heart to quell down. it happens more often recently, every cell in his body wanting every second of bobby's attention, wanting bobby's smiles pressed into the shell of his ear, bobby's hand curled loosely around his wrist.

 

hanbin sucks in a breath, a little too loud, as bobby leans his head back against the wall, eyes half lidded as they stare at hanbin. "we're gonna debut, you know."

 

"i know," hanbin says, but even with that certainty, hanbin can really only believe it when it actually happens. anything can be stolen from you.

 

"then don't make your hyung stay up so late," bobby chuckles, eyes crinkling up, disappearing, and hanbin wonders if bobby would notice him steal a kiss in those few seconds, if bobby thinks about distances covered by mustered, anxious courage.

 

"i told you to go home," hanbin repeats, adamant. he lets his hand slip from bobby's shoulder, swallowing.

 

bobby hums, smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and hanbin's heart aches, wishes it could ease away everything that kept bobby up at night. "it's not home if you're not there."

 

hanbin swallows the words in one shuddering breath, lets them sink into his blood, eyes unwavering as they stare at bobby's lopsided smile. something surges up through him, bubbling until it froths at the back of hanbin's mouth, sweet and overpowering. he smiles stupidly, "that's fucking disgusting, kimbap."

 

bobby's laughter breaks through every bit of tension coiling in hanbin's shoulders, the breath he lets out free of the molasses slowing him down. he blinks, and suddenly bobby's up on his feet, grinning down at hanbin, a hand offered to pull hanbin up. hanbin takes it, warmth sliding between his fingers and up his arm until it settles in the depths of hanbin's heart.

 

"come on, my bed's comfier than the floor," bobby tells him, and as if unwilling to let go of hanbin's hand, he pulls him along until they're standing outside in the chill of winter. it's too cold for bobby to go around walking in his hoodie, so hanbin reluctantly pulls his hand away, nodding at the winter coat bobby's got in his other hand. "jacket."

 

"it's not that cold," bobby lies even as hanbin rolls his eyes, and waits for him to zip his jacket up. without thinking, hanbin fixes the collar for him, zipping the jacket up the rest of the way. bobby didn't bring his mask today, hanbin knows. 

 

he's about to stuff his hands into his pockets when bobby takes one and sets them off in the direction of their dorms. hanbin's heart skips a beat, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. he's thankful, for the first time, that it's cold outside, but even still, ducks his head as bobby hums to himself as they head home.

 

hanbin's not sure when bobby's presence at his side became enough for him, but he knows that the only home he'll ever need is one with bobby still here, right next to him.

  


○

  


this isn’t the first time hanbin’s had to audition for something and he’s not quite sure if it’ll be his last. the thought prickles against him until bobby leans in close, chest pressed against hanbin’s arm and back. hanbin sucks in a breath, catches the scent of bobby’s fresh mint body wash. 

 

“you nervous?”

 

“no,” hanbin denies, without thought, and nearly shivers when he feels bobby’s hand find his, fingers lacing together automatically. bobby’s hand feels good in hanbin’s, like belonging. he turns, finds bobby smiling at him softly, knowingly, and it should bother him but hanbin’s heart melts out of him, pools at his feet until he is standing knee deep in something he doesn’t want to face.

 

bobby’s hair falls in his eyes, and hanbin thinks that in another world, he falls to his knees.

 

his heartbeat is erratic, the swell of the crowd around them as they wait to get into the auditions a little overwhelming. every now and then a camera man walks past them, lingers longer than it does for the others and hanbin can’t bring himself to let go of bobby’s hand. their manager lingers on the edges, he’s on the phone and it’s still early, by the looks of it. there are still people lining up to sign up for auditions and hanbin imagines being in their shoes. he still has lyrics to work on and a song to compose for the next round of mix & match. the new boys are still struggling with the choreography. there are hours of practise ahead of him, and maybe this is more than he can handle at once.

 

“you’re a bad liar,” bobby smiles, eyes crinkling and hanbin wants to deny this, too but bobby’s hand is slipping out of his as a larger camera crew finds them. hanbin feels the loss too deeply, fakes a smile for the camera and plays along, knows his lines. it’s not until later, hanbin’s arm slung over bobby’s shoulders, head resting against the curve of bobby’s shoulder, that hanbin feels settled again. happiness is fleeting, but bobby is not.

 

“hyung,” hanbin says, watches the line move, people stream inside of the stadium. “i’ll be cheering for you.”

 

“stealing my lines, huh,” bobby accuses, good natured, poking hanbin’s side. he’s got this fond look in his eyes that makes hanbin’s stomach flip flop. and hanbin wonders if there is a universe where they hold hands and it can mean more than _best friends_ , if there is a universe where hanbin’s heart doesn’t run and run and run to beat in tandem with jiwon’s.

 

the line moves, they’re being directed toward the stadium, and hanbin finds his hand slipping from bobby’s shoulder to the bend of his elbow, settling there as bobby curls his forearm up. bobby holds hanbin’s hand there, and they walk forward, something like a couple, the sun high and bright in the sky. hanbin feels content.

 

“don’t make me look too bad,” bobby teases, grip tight on hanbin’s hand. “but don’t back down either, okay.”

 

“like i would ever,” hanbin snorts, ignores the heat that flares in his cheeks, purposefully looking ahead and not at bobby. “and besides,” he adds, swallowing, mouth suddenly dry, “it’d be hard to make you look bad.”

 

bobby’s laughter is so warm hanbin’s heart flutters, and mortification isn’t unknown to hanbin but somehow bobby makes him forget about the embarrassment, too busy staring at how bobby blooms, stunning, how he leaves everything out in the open for hanbin to take. “when’d you get so smooth, huh?”

 

hanbin smacks him, ignoring the waggle of bobby’s eyebrows as the flush returns, stronger this time. bobby’s hand doesn’t leave his and hanbin holds onto bobby’s arm tighter, as if a lifeline keeping him afloat. “i’m just saying good luck.”

 

“you’re so cute, hanbinnie,” bobby smiles and hanbin can’t hide the smile that spreads over his lips, the anxious butterflies less nervous and more pleased, scrambling for something to say.

 

“shut up,” hanbin mutters.

  


○

  


“you’re getting the steps wrong,” hanbin snaps, irritable, the image of bobby resting with his head in yunhyeong’s lap still floating at the forefront of his mind, nagging. yunhyeong looks sorry, and hanbin, stubborn, refuses to stop scowling despite the guilt that bubbles in the pit of his belly. 

 

the rest of the members stare at hanbin, expressions purposefully left blank, and hanbin can’t bring himself to look at bobby. he fixes his stare on jinhwan instead, breathes, once, twice. “alright, from the top. we’re not leaving until we’re perfect.”

 

hanbin’s never been a good loser, angry and competitive, a tornado of rage. they need to be perfect, so good that the judges can point out nothing to critique. hanbin’s imagination leaves no room for mistakes, but they’ve already been told their lyrics aren’t good enough, and hanbin, hanbin’s already spent two days without any sleep. how is he going to fix everything overnight.

 

as he restarts the music, watching his team fall back into the steps, he sees doubt swirling around their feet, seeping into hanbin’s skin. ugly.

 

 _failure is never an option_ , hanbin reminds himself, teeth gritting as he purposefully avoids looking at bobby, following yunhyeong and then junhwe, and it looks good. it looks better than good, but somehow they’re always lacking. somehow they’re always falling short and it’s more than hanbin can bare, shoulders thin, weight heavy.

 

yang hyunsuk’s expectations loom over hanbin, a mountainous shadow cast over his team and they have to win, they have to be perfect. he runs his friends — because that’s what they are, first and foremost, even if hanbin forgets, even if he never tells them _enough_ , tied together by sweat and tears — ragged, watches the clock tick by until it’s nearly four in the morning. even he knows he should get some sleep, squeeze something in between now and more practise tomorrow.

 

“hanbin,” jinhwan starts, waits for hanbin to look at him and there’s a tired sort of patience there, like he can see right through hanbin and surely he’s not that obvious, surely he’s better at occluding everything with hardwired determination, fury in the form of reckless ambition.

 

he can’t find the words to answer.

 

“hanbin,” jinhwan repeats and there’s an edge to it, an exasperation he’s heard before. he sets his jaw, and jinhwan looks disappointed before hanbin’s shoulders are sagging and he’s turning the music off. no one moves and hanbin glares, only once, before they’re scrambling. the room’s empty in seconds except jinhwan and bobby are standing there, on opposite ends. hanbin is a set of scales, weighed down and kept in balance.

 

“hey,” jinhwan says, squatting down in front of hanbin. bobby is still at the back of the room and hanbin _hates_ how his heart aches, as if crushed, a bloody mess. “you did really good. i think everyone improved a lot.”

 

“yeah,” hanbin replies. he wonders if he has an off switch.

 

“there’s still time to practice,” jinhwan assures and it should mean something but it doesn’t. _there’ll be a lot of time to practise if we don’t win_ , hanbin wants to say and clouds don’t have silver linings, not when loss sits heavy on your tongue, bitter.

 

“yeah.”

 

jinhwan looks back at bobby, who’s stopped pacing and hanbin can only see his feet, refuses to look up, wishes he wasn’t a coward but then jinhwan is sighing, patting hanbin’s shoulder as he stands up, leaves. hanbin sits on the floor, stares at the hardwood, and bobby’s feet echo in the silence of the room. bobby sits down next to him. hanbin lets his legs slide down, spread out in front of him, weight falling back on his hands as he looks up at the ceiling.

 

bobby says nothing.

 

hanbin wonders how to tell him that for every breath hanbin takes, bobby takes two, and hanbin is steadily collapsing, breathless.

 

“you should head back, too,” hanbin says, eventually, when the silence has dragged on for too long.

 

“are you coming?” bobby’s voice is a quiet murmur, wraps around hanbin’s heart, a soothing touch. 

 

“i have some — ”

 

“i’ll stay until you’re done.”

 

hanbin’s heart stops, kicks back in a split second later, and he can’t do this, he can’t do this, and it’s easy, it’s so fucking easy. he looks at bobby, his head down, hands in his lap. licking his lips, hanbin scoots back until he and bobby are shoulder to shoulder, bobby looking up at him, expressionless. there’s a hole in his stomach, sucking everything out of hanbin until all he can think, all he can see is bobby, kim jiwon, and it’s easy, it’s so fucking easy.

 

he gets stuck in orbit, he’s been stuck in orbit for so long, not enough momentum to push him out and bobby is always there, seemingly at a standstill, and gravity is enough to pull hanbin in but not enough to push him all the way. instead, hanbin floats, an arm’s length away, close but not close enough, and bobby is right there, his skin soft and warm, crackling fire, glowing heat and maybe today hanbin will spin a little slower, allow himself to be swallowed whole. maybe today hanbin won’t teeter at the edge, after all bobby’s right there. bobby’s right there, and hanbin is pulled closer, head tilting on it’s own accord, hand moving to rest against the solid muscle of bobby’s thigh. his breath catches in his throat, bobby’s eyes flickering to hanbin’s mouth and he’s never done this before, he’s never —

 

“hanbin.” bobby’s voice is so quiet, rough with something hanbin can’t place but it snaps hanbin out of his daze, suddenly awash with embarrassment, realization barrelling down on him like a wave. he’s flattened out. levelled down.

 

he doesn’t look back as he scrambles out of the room, heart beating in the tightness of his throat, as if choking him out. it can’t get free.

  


○

  


the universe is infinite, never ending and unimaginable, and in its vastness there are stars that die, but bobby is a singularity, hanbin stretched out until he is nothing but atomic matter, nothing at all.  


  


○

  


he loses. 

 

he loses and it’s not the first time, and hanbin knows it certainly won’t be the last but this loss stings more than the others. it feels like there is an ocean between him and bobby, and the distance is only growing larger, stretching wider and hanbin’s not sure if he can see bobby anymore. this loss is lonely, he has no one to share it with and hanbin has known what loss tastes like: his parents strained marriage, the absence of his father, standing on a stage and being told you’re not good enough. like sour milk on the back of his tongue.

 

it stings. bruised knees and black eyes, the ache of a twisted ankle, careless mistakes. it stings. hanbin’s heart hurts.

 

bobby glows on the stage, his presence radiant and hanbin understands that it is impossible to look at the sun, but he keeps trying, he keeps trying, eyes burning. he loses, and he knows loss, can swallow disappointment and failure but he’s burning. it’s not bobby’s fault, hanbin reasons, bobby purposefully quiet as he sits next to hanbin. the car ride home is hollow, a certain distance between them. today hanbin’s thighs aren’t pressed against bobby’s, their shoulders do not touch, and he makes sure of it.

 

you can’t touch the sun.

 

it is a reminder. hanbin is shortcomings. not good enough to get his team to win, not good enough to last on a reality show, and he imagines, one day he won’t be good enough for ikon either. tomorrow hanbin will be resentful, he knows this, knows himself well enough. tomorrow he will be burning, too. he wonders how long a fire can last, if relief ever comes.

 

hanbin flickers, and bobby shines and he wishes it didn’t eat him up alive like this, he wishes he could tell bobby how proud he is of him, wishes everything didn’t sit lumped up in the back of his throat, too heavy to be said. he thinks about win, thinks about lying in bed, defeated. he’d felt broken then, feels the same hole in his gut now, slowly emptying out.

 

 _you forgot your lines_ , hanbin tells himself, head falling back, eyes closed. he lets himself turn toward bobby, watches his profile flicker across the backdrop of the darkness of seoul, flashing lights swallowed by the night. bobby doesn’t turn to look at him and hanbin is grateful, isn’t sure what to with his annoyance, his misery. he has a terrible habit of directing it at others.

 

“you have to win,” hanbin says, so soft he isn’t even sure he’s managed to say it out loud.

 

bobby looks startled, like he hadn’t expected hanbin to break the silence at all. he isn’t wrong.

 

“you have to,” hanbin adds and it’s the only way he knows how to say _i believe in you_ , _i’m sorry._

 

bobby’s shoulders sag, and he’s giving hanbin this smile, this smile that makes everything hanbin has built up crumble to nothing. hanbin wonders how many times bobby will destroy him. “you didn’t — ”

 

“no, i did,” hanbin cuts him off. this isn’t the time for false reassurances, for pity. “i wasn’t good enough. it’s okay.”

 

it’s not. failure always eats hanbin alive, burrows so deep under his skin, it seems to multiply his fears, leaves hanbin rattling and shaking. he has other responsibilities, has a group to guide through the dark into something hopefully resembling success. every failure is personal, every criticism etched into hanbin’s heart, to be carried with him to death. but bobby is different, bobby is meant to soar, to fly, and hanbin feels heavy, a weight dragging him down.

 

hanbin has held himself together before, he can do it again. he has survived everything up until now. he will live to survive more. bobby is iridescent and hanbin burns and he wonders if this is what love is.

 

“i’ll be waiting, hyung.”

  


○

  


hanbin’s very persistently not paying attention to bobby’s head in his lap, hands preoccupied with his phone. they’ve all piled up in the living room, donghyuk insisting they spend time together, as if they weren’t always holed up together in the practise room. bobby had, of course, sprawled himself over hanbin and jinhwan’s laps, wiggling every now and then to get more comfortable. 

 

he’d been excited at first, getting to share a room with bobby, but hanbin finds that bobby is always there, right at the corners of his vision and there’s no time to breathe. there’s just bobby, growing and growing and growing, until hanbin feels like he is suffocating, unable to escape. it’s difficult pretending this is something it isn’t, difficult ignoring the swell of his heart every time bobby gives him an indulgent smile, tells him he’s cute. hanbin wonders how much longer he can hide this, if he even hides it at all.

 

he’d read somewhere once that loving someone from afar for so long felt like someone was slowly squeezing the air out of you, and in all that space left behind, for every atom of oxygen you lost, you were filled with more longing until every cell in your body breathed in tandem with your desperation. your hurt. hanbin hadn’t understood then, the chill of autumn falling quickly, night sky clouded.

 

hanbin can taste it, the ache, the way his heart bursts open, and the human body is only four litres of blood, it won’t be long until hanbin’s emptied out.

 

his phone bings, hanbin’s attention returning to reality and the message is from bobby. of course it is.

 

_u ok?_

 

he blinks, finds bobby’s attention is still focused on the television in front of them. hanbin’s not sure how to reply. 

 

_yeah_

  


hanbin watches bobby read his response, and the ache bubbles up, pushes to get past his lips. when bobby turns to look at him, hanbin gives him a weak smile, using the opportunity to wiggle out of his seat. jinhwan spares him a glance and hanbin points toward the bathroom before he leaves. he doesn’t look at bobby again.

  


his heart beats a little less furiously as hanbin puts space between them, the bundle of nerves in the pit of his belly unravelling. he thinks about just going to his room, crashing in bed. he’s tired. he’s always tired. if not because of long days spent practising and staying up composing, then because of his inability to just turn off. his mind races, as if attempting to catch up, take over, and hanbin knows he’s going to run out of breath one day.

  


he doesn’t realise that he walks past the bathroom, feet planted in front of his bedroom and it’s not just his. it’s not just his. hanbin can’t look past all the ways bobby seems to linger in his space, how hanbin is haunted by bobby. they share the same bed some nights, and hanbin can’t explain away the solid warmth of another body as something ghostly, even if bobby is ethereal, even if hanbin can’t catch up.

  


they’ve had a long enough day that hanbin doesn’t think he’ll be missed, shuffling into his room. there’s a dull throbbing between his shoulders, a lack of stretching probably to blame or the extended periods of time he spends in his studio’s chair. he tosses his phone onto his bed, pulling off his hoodie to throw into the laundry basket. the room’s dark, moonlight streaming in from outside, illuminating everything in a soft glow. hanbin sighs, moves to grab his laptop off the floor when the light flickers on.

  


it’s bobby. 

  


it’s alway bobby.

  


hanbin knows a thing or two about reliability. he is thirteen when he’s taken to see a cardiologist: his heart rate is too fast. his mother holds his hand, worry painted across her features, brush strokes in the crease of her forehead, the downturn of her lips. hanbin’s father has a business meeting. he knows where bobby falls in this equation and perhaps that is what makes it worse, what makes it entirely too difficult to endure.

  


“this isn’t the bathroom,” bobby says, walking in. hanbin kind of wants to punch him square in the face but bobby is well meaning if anything, and hanbin can’t hold that against him. “you actually okay?”

  


“yeah, hyung, just tired.” hanbin doesn’t know how to say he needs some time alone, away from bobby, away from everyone. bobby only comes closer, hand wrapping around the base of hanbin’s neck and any other day, hanbin would have sighed into the touch, bobby’s presence a quiet comfort. except bobby pulls him even closer, has hanbin in a hug, his other hand rubbing soft circles up hanbin’s back. he keeps a sliver of distance between them, foreheads touching and hanbin has to remind himself that bobby thinks touch can fix everything, that bobby comforts through presence, through physicality.

  


“you know i’m just worried,” bobby murmurs and hanbin hates that he stares at bobby’s mouth the entire time, cheeks flushing as his mind wanders. bobby pulls hanbin in as if he were the moon itself, hanbin the tide, dancing to his whims. he feels small, needy in bobby’s hands, wishes he could fall forward and have bobby catch him. the worst part is that he knows bobby would. hanbin is bound together by flesh and bone, secrets clustered inside his ribcage, piling up up up. he is a thousand insecurities, and he wonders how he could possibly have galaxies running through his veins when he can’t even look a boy in the eye.

  


“i’m _fine_ , hyung, seriously,” hanbin huffs in exasperation, pushing bobby away. it’s that or fall forward and hanbin is too afraid of what that would mean. he’s spent so long, too long, watching bobby grow and grow and grow, burning a hundred thousand times brighter than any star in the sky and hanbin feels distant, pale, in comparison. it’s as if he’s stuck craning his neck up, watching bobby float from afar, shimmer in the sky, and hanbin can’t explain the hollowed feeling left behind. “just. just go.”

  


bobby looks like he wants to fight hanbin on that but hanbin squares up his shoulders, refuses to meet bobby’s eyes and it’s enough of a signal for even bobby to understand. he lingers in the room, hand running through his hair as he watches hanbin roll into bed. hanbin hates the way his chest squeezes tighter, as if his ribs are shrinking, lungs bursting at the seams, heart suffocating between them.

  


he leaves and hanbin knows it shouldn’t sting but it does, it does until he wakes up in the middle of the night to find bobby sleeping next to him, face buried in the back of hanbin’s neck, arm thrown across hanbin’s waist.

  


○

  


relativity tells hanbin that spacetime is subjective, that the singular progress of one individual cannot feasibly be met, score for score, by another.

but in this universe, in its vastness, hanbin has barely made it through an hour, bobby already years ahead.

  


○

  


bobby goes to thailand, and hanbin copes. he’s not sure what to name this mixture of resentment and longing and self-doubt but it doesn’t seem to mind being nameless, claws sinking into hanbin until nothing seems to quiet out his thoughts. he thinks about going to sleep, but he’s been taking too many naps lately, a fog clouding his mind. hanbin staggers forward, hands out-stretched to break his fault. 

 

he finds himself staring at airport pictures of bobby posted by fans, the composition he’s been working on for over a week now abandoned in the background. bobby’s wearing the hat hanbin got him, he’s always wearing the hat hanbin got him, and it feels dreamlike, the pleasant hum that swarms him every time he sees it. yesterday, he’d purposefully ignored everything. hadn’t wanted to even catch a glimpse of bobby, jealously eating him alive. it’s ugly, it makes hanbin feel so ugly, and he should be happy about all of bobby’s success and he is, but there’s this helpless feeling thundering in his chest, getting louder and louder. there’s this fear, this all-consuming certainty that bobby’s going to realise, he’s going to realise, and then he’s going to leave. hanbin is miles and miles of empty space, nothingness. bobby glows even in the dark.

 

there are new updates, previews of bobby at the cf filming, hair slicked back, eyes disappearing as he smiles at the cameras. he’s shirtless, the planes of his body not unknown to hanbin. sometimes hanbin thinks about dragging his hand over bobby’s abs, kissing down the length of his abdomen until he lingers over the jut of bobby’s hip, breath ghosting over smooth skin. bobby is sharp, and yet he feels soft to the touch, doesn’t have hanbin’s boniness.

 

hanbin bites his lip, finds himself staring at the same short video of bobby getting drenched in water for the filming. bobby laughs, soaked through, his white tank nearly transparent. he should stop, but he can’t, heart racing, want coiling in his gut and he’s done it before, swallowed his guilt in small, heavy knots afterwards. he palms his cock, legs spreading open on their own accord, back hitting the back of his chair. it’s not as comfortable as his bed, and hanbin is only human, he is mistakes and want and _desperation_.

 

the video blurs in front of his eyes, hanbin’s imagination enough, the ghost of bobby’s touch on hanbin’s skin like a scorching reminder. he’s touched you here and here and _here_. his breath catches in his throat, cock hardening as hanbin slips his hand past the band of his sweatpants and underwear. he thinks about the way bobby’s sweats always hang low on his hips, how he’ll walk around the dorm shirtless, tan skin glistening in the sunlight and hanbin squeezes around the base of his cock, catches a gasp in the back of his throat. hanbin wants to feel the burn in his knees, wants to look up at bobby, mouth full of cock, wants to kiss the skin above bobby’s groin, wants to write his name into bobby’s skin, and his hand can’t move fast enough, precum not enough to keep his cock wet.

 

his eyes squeeze shut, hands working his sweats down until his cock’s out in the open, a fire burning through his lungs. he finds himself digging through his bag, the lotion yunhyeong’s slipped into it still there. he squirts the lotion into a hand, tongue licking his lips as he wraps his hand around his cock again, imagines it’s bobby’s. bobby’s hand, bobby’s breath hitting the back of his neck, bobby’s cock pressed into the curve of his ass. bobby, bobby, bobby.

 

“aah — ” hanbin can’t stop the moan, the way it wilts into a gasp, the squelch of his cock fucking into his hand filling the quiet of the room. his head hits the back of the chair, the edge digging into his skin, and hanbin wants bruises, he wants teeth, he wants bobby’s lips on his own until he’s mindless with it, wants bobby to fuck into him, the weight of his body a constant reminder that hanbin isn’t alone, hanbin isn’t alone and the cosmos may stretch out into nothing but hanbin is full.

 

“fuck,” hanbin breathes, arousal like a fire burning through his veins, and he can hear bobby’s voice in the shell of his ear: _you like that, hanbin? you gonna come for hyung?_ he has a finger pressed against his entrance, whimpering, and he’s so close, so close, bobby’s name on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be actualized. hanbin twists his wrist up the upstroke, thumb pushing into his slit and he comes with a soft cry, body arching off the chair as he milks out his orgasm. cum spills all over his hand, and hanbin fucks into it, slower, sagging into his chair as the last of it dribbles down his cock.

 

when he opens his eyes, bobby’s face stares back at him, cum splattered across his desk. there’s even a drop on bobby’s face in the picture. hanbin has to bite his lip to stop the embarrassed whine escaping him, heat flooding his cheeks, sinking down the stretch of his neck until shame bubbles in the pit of his belly.

  


○

  


it’s sunny outside, hanbin’s a little overheated. bobby has his arm slung over hanbin’s shoulder, and they step forward in sync, left right, left right. hanbin can feel the press of bobby’s hip against his own, solid mass against his body. he’s content. 

 

“i feel like taking a nap,” bobby comments, lazy lilt to his voice. they have a lot of free time on their hands lately, waiting for yg to reject yet another batch of compositions. nothing seems to be good enough and it haunted hanbin before, that lacking, but bobby is a good distraction, reassurance falling from his lips so easily that hanbin sometimes lets himself believe it’s true. still, hanbin worries and worries, simmers in his anticipation, that small spark of hope always flickering in the back of his mind. maybe this time one of them will be good enough, and hanbin just wants to debut, just wants to make his mark.

 

“told you you ate too much,” hanbin accuses, tentatively lets his arm loop around bobby’s waist. it gets bobby’s attention, head turning to look at hanbin, his smile bordering on lecherous. hanbin ignores it, keeps his gaze on his feet, looking forward and he’s better at admitting that it feels nice, that the swoop in his gut is from how bobby makes him feel electric, too much.

 

“theres no such thing,” bobby counters, hand carding into hanbin’s hair. he’d left his hat back at the studio, is quietly grateful for it now. the walk back to the studio is pleasant, even if hanbin is preoccupied with thoughts about debuting. they only have two songs finalized yet and neither is a title track. at this rate, they don’t debut until after summer’s over and hanbin had hoped to enjoy the weather as they bustled around.

 

“is too,” hanbin argues, all bark and no bite. bobby’s laughing, eyes crinkling up, and he is so carefree when he laughs, the raspy quality of his voice lingering behind. hanbin thinks he could float in it, just lie down and enjoy bobby laughing, the rumble of it echoing through hanbin until the vibrations set his skin abuzz.

 

they’re nearly back at the training center and hanbin wonders when it’ll be the last time he has to see the place, when they’ll get to practise with their sunbaes at yg building. they haven’t made it yet. it twists darkly in the pit of his stomach, that fear. 

 

“you know,” bobby says, thumb tracing along the edge of hanbin’s ear, “we’re still going to debut even if you don’t worry about it constantly.”

 

“are you sure?”

 

“yeah,” bobby answers. “we’re gonna be okay.” 

 

hanbin finds the confidence comforting, sneaks a glance at bobby, regret piling up in his throat immediately. bobby’s eyes are soft, the sun’s glare blocked by the brim of his hat. his heart thunders to a stop, pulses like a heat wave ebbing outwards, too slow. bobby’s smile is sweet, fond, and hanbin’s running out of places to hide, mouth dry. there’s a hitch in his breath, a heat in his cheeks, and hanbin is tired of burning but he doesn’t know anything else. they’re standing in the steps down to their practise rooms, to the studio they hole up in for most of their lives, and bobby is so close, hand smoothing down the curve of hanbin’s spine. somehow it finds hanbin’s hand, fingers lacing together, and hanbin’s body quakes, molten want flowing through his veins.

 

“hanbin,” bobby says, hanbin’s heart hanging by a tendril, ready to fall, skitter to a stop, dead at his feet.

 

he can’t get any words out of his mouth, and bobby is standing one step below him, has left hanbin at the very top of the stairs. their hands are still laced together.

 

“hanbin,” bobby says again, a whisper. hanbin barely hears it. he stares at the curl of bobby’s mouth, the dip of his philtrum, the pink of his lips. hanbin is a tide reaching for the moon, begging to be touched, to touch in return and it’s sunny outside, the glow of bobby’s skin searing into hanbin’s eyes.

 

he swallows.

 

bobby pulls him closer, reaches up until he has a hand curled around the back of hanbin’s neck. hanbin’s eyes flicker from bobby’s mouth to his eyes and he’s too close, he’s being pulled in by something stronger than gravity. he teeters on the edge and he falls, lets bobby catch him, orbits be damned.

 

bobby tastes like convenience store kimbap and banana milk, lips soft, skin softer. hanbin sinks. hanbin sinks and sinks and sinks and he would give every last bit of his breath to bobby if he could, if he could feel the press of bobby’s lips against his own for the rest of his life. he’s never done this before, heart hammering in his chest, drowning everything else out and the world begins with bobby’s touch and ends with bobby’s touch. hanbin will carry him around like a ghost, haunted, until he cannot forget the searing joy of bobby’s mouth against his own, bobby’s hands against his skin, bobby’s body pushed up against his.

 

“took you long enough,” bobby murmurs, smiling into hanbin’s mouth and hanbin can’t help but fall, arms wrapping around bobby’s neck. he kisses bobby again. and again, and again and he doesn’t think he’ll stop until his ravenous heart is sated.

  


○

  


it’s past midnight when they get back home. bobby is steps ahead, hanbin struggling to take his shoes off at the door. when he straightens up, bobby’s already disappeared into their room and hanbin follows, leaving his duffle by the foot of his bed after he enters. the new choreography isn’t too difficult, hanbin’s muscles a nice sort of sore. he rolls his shoulders, digs through the closet for something clean to wear, go to sleep in. behind him junhwe is softly snoring, arm dangling off the edge of his bed. 

 

as he grabs a clean t-shirt he feels arms wrap around his waist, heartbeat in his throat. lips press against the back of his neck, and hanbin shivers, pinpricks travelling down the length of his spine until something warm blooms in his stomach. bobby’s cheek presses against his skin, weight falling onto hanbin and he is not heavy, but pleasant, warm. the glow of the sun.

 

“i really like you, you know,” bobby murmurs, a hand slipping under hanbin’s t-shirt and it’s cool to the touch, makes hanbin’s belly quiver. he swallows down his apprehension, reminds himself that junhwe is in the room, leaning back into bobby’s warmth.

 

“i know,” hanbin whispers back, keeps the _i love you_ on the back of his tongue, tucked behind the sharpness of his teeth. there’ll be a time for that, hanbin knows, and he has waited so long, eons and eons. he knows he can wait a little longer.

  


○

  


the universe is infinite, and in its vastness there is hanbin and there is bobby, binary stars caught in each other's gravitational pull, brighter than any supernova.


End file.
